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CQEffilGHT DEPOSIT. 



IDOOD 

"\7 oices ^ itWn (J^ leself 

"Life is but thought ; so think I will". —Coleridge. 

EDITION TWO HUNDRED FIFTY COPIES 

COPYRIGHT 1921 BY THE AUTHOR 

WALTER J. COATES 




iSolUarian fireee 

HARTLAND, VERMONT 

Hugust 1921 






DEDICATION 

To those who dream dreams, sing songs, 
and see visions even in this wealth-crazed 
''movie"-mad age; who dare to cherish the 
Spirit of Idealism ; and who insist on ex- 
pressing life in the terms of Idealism at 
whatever cost. 



OCT -8 1921 



§)CI.A627147 



MOOD SONGS 



The Unspoken 



D 



UMB are words, 

For hearts in travail blunder; 



Music baffles sound 

And lightning outleaps thunder: 



Thoughts outbulk expression, 
And in our groping speech 



Imagination flounders 

Toward a symbol out of reach. 



^^ 



<:^ 3 '^j> 



«SSi«55?Cj3|^ MOOD SONGS & 

A Dream of Peace 

{August 1917) 

BATHOMLESS the Sea of Life 
Whose depths are stirred 
By passion and by discord 
As of strife and war of jarring interests. 
Deep the hate 

Engendered by this lack of mutual trust 
And concord among men. 

Warring waves 

Of racial aims ; the tides 

Of social feeling long represt; 

The quarrels and piques of regal families; 

The lust for nascent markets of the world 

All these, combined with greed of power and gold, 
Make rough the ways of progress and of travel 
Toward Love's Unbounded Shore. 

The chart mismarkt 

The compass led astray by false polarity- 
God's plans are mockt 
And Time put out of joint. 

Be ours the task 

To seize the rudder of this world astray— 

This ship without a Pilot— 

And to the haven of untroubled Peace 

And Love and Life unfettered — to this bourne 



!^ WITHIN MYSELF «Sa(J>^S« 



Whence Christ and Mahmed beckon — 
Whence the voice 

Of poet, sage, and prophet vainly calls 
Direct the course of action and ideal 
Of wayward man. 

So shall the singer sing again 
Of sunny banks and gladsome pebbled brooks- 
Dear common flowers and blushing violets ; 
So shall the dreamer revel in his books 
And journey far to worlds uncharted — far 
Beyond the ken of present mortal eye. 

The Isles of Greece are not more luring than 

Those Isles of Fortune 

That wait upon a Universe of Peace. 



Selfhood in Extremes 

I SEEK within myself the magic springs 
Of more abounding Life 

And on sure wings 
Of mine own selfhood to surmount the strife 
That wages war betwixt my two extremes : 
One soaring up the starlit heights of Heaven, 
One faltering down the vacuous deeps of Hell. 



•SS^«^C!>g& MOO© SONGS /* 

To a Wind-Storm 

(March 1918) 



"^TBHT^ HIRLING, swirling, circling snow ! 
^ W F Your prismy crystals clear 

^^\^ The gusty wind of March is fiercely toss- 
ing; 
The rising sun your serried banks are bossing 
With sheen of silver lit by liquid glow. 



Moaning, groaning, shivering wind ! 

Death's wail is in your voice: — 
The sigh of troubled Spirits vainly crying 
Shrill requiems for Winter now a-dying — 

Erewhile so vivid— phantomed on the mind. 



Sad, sad and soul-depressing weather !— 
Omen from lofty crag, from lowland heather — 
Out of old Winter's lust the vigor teasing. 
Fair birthright of young Spring so boldly seizing. 
Haunting the liquid air! 



Type of the bonded Soul and fleeting breath! 
The rigors of your sway. 
To solemn dirge the heart-chords tensely trying. 
Proclaim that here the sick and there the djnng 

Drink deeply soon of Lethe and of Death. 

<r3& 6 .gijj 



1^ WITHIN MYSELF «^c!3«!SSi 



Our sole remembrance and our mortal fate 
Are limned on clouds like yours and flakes of 
snow: 
High keyed or low— shrill dirge or deep, or moan- 
ing— 
Whistling elate, or in weird cadence groaning— 
Your music shall abate! 



Fit emblem of our fragmentary years — 
On stony graves, on pulsing births impinging ; 
Or sunward bent, from tyrant Ice-King cringing 
Rude harbinger of bud and leaf- 
Befitting our brief passions, yearnings, fears ! 

Elastic Youth, behind you, comes a-leaping, 
Enthralled no more, but ready for the reaping 

Of Time's brave deeds below — 
Heedless, unwarned of Frosty Giants sleeping 

In the next Winter's snow! 



The Holiest God 

GRIM FATES and wanton circumstance deny 
Bold aspirations — stifle many a cry 
Wherein the soul invokes its holiest God, 
Expression. 



a$^i<^C!>^^ MOOD SONGS i» 

Conscription 

The Feelings of a Registrant 

OTHE WAR is reaching for me, and I hear 
its rumbling roar, 
And I sense the battle's turmoil from afar ; 
But I feel the soft caresses and I see the curly tresses 
Of my children here at home where my feet are 

fain to roam: 
And I dread to loose the anchor and heave out a- 

cross the tides 

Of those bloody surging billows where the Ark of 

Battle rides ! 

For the wonted ties are pulling back where tender 

tears will fall, 
And my wife will feel the home-life growing drear ; 
But I hear the boys a-tramping where the nations 

are revamping 
All the policy and rage of a falsely tutored age. 
And my heart is set a-throbbing with a mighty tense 

desire 
To emulate the heroes who have braved the flam- 
ing fire! 

For Democracy was falling ; and Humanity now calls 
For the sons who built her temples in the west: 
And the "Rights of Man" still beckon where the 

Friends of Man will reckon 
With the Kaiser and his dreams for the misery and 

screams 
That have chilled the heart of Europe from that fa- 
tal August day 
When the hounds of War he loosened— and we'll 
beat him if we may! 



AUGUST 19. 191 



«^ WITHIN MYSELF i^<J>^5S» 

Premonitions 

^23rN AUTUMN atmosphere's transparent glare 
^JR^ Records each quivering leaf and everywhere 
In glistening sunshine glorifies the scene 
Without. Far off, in bold and serried banks 
Balsam and fir and pine glint darkly green ; 

And Bedouin Breezes, striking thru the ranks 
Of straining boughs, ring forth a vibrant, keen. 
Yet weirdly mournful music- playful pranks 
Of an Austere Composer. Floating notes 
In ghostly-wild crescendo there prevail — 
Tolling sad tidings to a world that dotes 

On death, that Death is near. Let none bewail 
One hasting joy or glinting landscape's boon : — 
Time, whirling on, unrolls no lifeless rune! 

Free Souls 

eRTH knows them not. In this reluctant sphere 
No doubly gracious door swings open wide 
To greet our harassed wills. Achievements 
bide 
Not wholly mortal choice. Ambition here, 

As elsewhere, ever kneels to fickle Chance. 
Chaos would rule unchecked were man to choose 

All unrestrained. Fate's cruel gyves enhance 
To blessed gains the things we seem to lose. 

The fettered mind— the shackled soul attunes 
Itself to order— strikes a nobler strain : 
True hearts will stumble, fall, and rise again ; 

Time will translate these lapses into runes, 
And history recite the epic story 
Of man, whose pride was dust, whose meekness 
glory. 



«S&«^5f<t3^2« MOO© SONGS ^ 



Spirit of October 

OCTOBER LEAVES are falling 
' On the wind — 
October days recalling 
Days behind: 
The season of gold and of glory is passing ; 
Her fluttering foliage Nature is massing 

In banks and in rows 
To shelter her shivering nudeness of breast 
From winter's fell blows. 

October zephyrs are plying 

Field and mart— 
October symbols are sighing 
In the heart: 
The summer of song-birds and singing is sped 
And winter valkjn'ies shriek high overhead, 

Shrilling dirges of death— 
In monotone mournfully wailing a knell 
For the sprouts of our breath. 

October tokens are trying 

Lighter tunes- 
Faint intimations supplying 
Nobler runes : 
Immortality lurks in each denuded bough, 
Out-hiding the frost and secure from the sough 

Of the severing breeze, 
Tho the dank diapason of death rides at will 
Thru the murmuring trees. 



10 



<^ WITHIN MYSELF iSa<t>*S» 

October is waning and wasting 

Day by day, 
And April is looming— is hasting 
This way: 
A wedding for Autumn and Spring is arranged 
And Winter, the outlaw, shall wander estranged 

Like a wraith in despair ; 
For the Sun is the lord of each season and life 
And will reign in the air. 



New Power 

yr LIGHTNING FLASH! Briskly across the 
^J^ wire 

Snaps vibrant Life in coruscating fire 
Where humdrum currents lingered. Strange new 

power 
Electrifies the line invades the hour ! 

So to the stumbling heart— the lagging lyre 
Of mind, comes Inspiration ! We aspire 
Once more to swelling Song— constrained again 
To master-strokes of ecstasy and pain! 



11 



•Sa^^CjJ^iS* MOO© SONGS ^ 






Fading Twilight 

ADING, fading, fading— Night draws on a- 

pace : 
Fading into darkness — fading into space ! 



All the world is fading, but azure distance holds 
The mystic benediction a Heart Divine unfolds. 

Fading on the hill-tops, fading on the green : 
Fading twilight falters toward the Vast Unseen! 

Glaring Day is distanced ; blaring noises fled— 
Nature^s mother-touch descends on the tired head ! 

When the whirl of blighted earth-hopes is unspun 
Fading rays of soothing Light lull the weary one! 

Intimations, glowing, gild the Orient : 

But the scroll, Accomplishment, decks the Occident ! 

Fading and reviving — within the central Glow 
Of destined Life and Action— all our moments go. 



12 



^ WITHIN MYSELF afiSW^^SSi 

Foregleams 

(An Allegory in Verse) 

^^^^ HE SUN, for many weary hours ascendent 
■^ ^% Above night's gathering might and swart 
^^^^ array 

Of eerie ghosts that vex her dreams resplendent, 
Has fled the wan, forsaken fields of day. 

With wistful and averted orb she leaves 

This unidealistic realm of man, 
And, fronting fair Projected Isles, she cleaves 

Abysms wild and seas Cimmerian. 

Her bark adventures these uncharted deeps 
Beyond our idle surmise, and explores 

Illimitable oceans wild ; then sweeps 
Bold spirals to the Unimagined Shores. 

Tho spectral Doubt may haunt and overwhelm 
Our nether world where countless terrors spawn, 

Her wings, unwearied, arch an upper realm 
And spurn the azure to eternal dawn. 

Her cosmic romance no beginning knows. 
Nor end, while years exist or planets roll : 

But ceaselessly, undauntedly she goes 
To her predestined and relentless goal. 



13 



iSSit^7^(p82» MOOT) SONGS ^ 



Clouding the saffron sky, with scheming plot, 
Minions of Hate and Death forever hark: 

And grisly phantoms of a world forgot 

Shout fearsome words of doom from out the dark. 



Her memory foretells unfrightened morrows 
That fresh effulgent seas will surely bring: 

Our dreams of Destined Life, defying sorrows 
To such enamored promises must cling. 

Nor dust nor dross of earth can blind to eyelight 
The visions that from distant auras rise: 

Momentous beacons, from the pregnant twilight 
Reflecting backward, lure to high emprise. 

Man trails afar ; but still, in Nature's tresses. 
An imaged glory beckons him along: 

A floating glamor haloes all his guesses 
And Intimations glitter in his song. 

Here we but grope: yet far-off Light is verging 
On disillusioned zones where stars attest — 

Above, below— a Sanguine Agent urging 

And earth and heaven respond to one behest. 

Out of our interlude of dust and longing 
The soul, bereft of earth, sometime will soar 

Where disenthralled and kindred Spirits, thronging, 
Gladden a rapt empyrean evermore. 

C^A 14 ^=s^ 



^ WITHIN MYSELF a^-Cj)^^ 



When Fancy's sweet Aeolian winds are lifting 
Caressing carols round us far and near, 

The dark horizon breaks away and, rifting, 
Bright foregleams of eternity appear. 

By some fair stream in some far opal valley 
Of vernal life our great adventure lies— 

Where rainbow tints alternately will sally 
And airy argosies surprise the skies. 



The Monopolistic Social Order 

H DISMAL DEN wherein Free Speech is sealed 
And plundering upstarts revel in oppres- 
sions— 
Where Tyranny, unmasked yet half concealed, 
Flaunts in our face her base ill-got possessions. 
Here poverty prevents aspiring thought 
From soaring up to God or out to man: 

Here cringing souls are trafficked— sold or 
bought — 
To grant usurping wealth a longer span. 

Some puppet singer, subsidized by gold, 
Strikes idle strains of counterfeit Desire 

From strings that boldly rang in days of old 
Ere Freedom tottered to her funeral pyre. 



(T^ 15 -5J«^ 



fi^€^Ct3^s MOOD SONGS ^ 

Winter 

/^ f ^ " HOU BASTARD VIKING of the polar 

M ^^k zones — 

^^^ Fierce jar! of ice and fell — relentless foe — 
Chilling the very marrow of our bones 
As, pitiless, thy minions come and go ! 

We know thee for the robber that thou art, 
Turning our blood to ice each woful night: 

Each morn reveals thy diabolic heart 
That prostrates life beneath a bitter blight! 

Of Fenrif's pack thou art— his fitting heir, — 
Thy biting frost is venomed with his fangs; 

And, stealing on us from thy frigid lair. 
Thou harriest us with misery and pangs! 

What laughing lips can bear thy loveless kiss, 
What form survive beneath thy cold embrace; 

What heart mistake thine irony for bliss 
Or tryst with thee or trust thy cruel face? 

Relentless monster! Mercy knows thee not: 
Or if she feigns thy presence she beguiles 

Our fancies till, benumbed, we deem thee hot 
And twist our tortured lips in gargoyle smiles. 

If hell exist 'tis in thy thrice curst realm; 

Hell heat is balm beside thy blighting breath: 
If earth escape thy hosts that overwhelm 

T will be when thou thyself art whelmed in death ! 



WINTER OF 1918 



(TJA 16 ^^J? 



WITHIN MYSELF «^iej>^5^ 



At the Threshold 



^^OFTLY AND SILENTLY knelling a dirge 
F^^^ Over city and upland and glen 
P""^ I hear the wild bells of eternity tolling: 
Softly and silently rolling a surge 
Over hamlet and moorland and fen 
I see the wild waves of futurity rolling; 
And messengers shod 
With fire-mist from God 
Bring Fate to the threshold of men. 



Gladly or sadly, with laughter or tears, 
While wild bells are chiming or knelling, 
I vision the joy and the sorrow of life : 
Gladly or sadly, with courage or fears. 
While wild tides are ebbing or swelling, 
I hear the mixed earth-sounds of concord and strife, 
Where, heedlessly groping, 
Or doubting, or hoping. 
At the threshold of Fate men are dwelling. 



17 



aSS^«?5W>fi^ MOOD SONGS /> 

The Call of (^&e 

""WrWOF^ E HAVE SEEN halcyon days that joyed 
m W f to be 

^^^^ Who soon will weary of this round of 
clay ; 
And life once fair as dawn to you and me 
Will drag thru irksome labor day by day. 

Oblivious once to pain and powers malign, 
We hailed new glory every opening morn; 

But now we tremble lest the dark design 
Of age leave our last days bereft and lorn. 

The breath of youth no longer scents the lips 
Grown tremulous and cold with earth's decay; 

But Death, in all her musty odors, slips 
Quite unawares upon our work and play. 

A sluggish current mocks the blood that glanced 
And wantoned thru our veins in crimson rout; 

And halting feet grope feebly now that danced 
And mumbled words replace the clarion shout. 

We soon shall dwell alone amongst our dreams 
Of things that were to be : we soon shall know 

The epic of mortality that streams 

Thru man's unending history here below. 

Yet we will treasure with unshaken hearts — 
Still treasure the old days that joyed to be— 

Still train ourselves to take the obvious parts 
Assigned us in the drama, Destiny. 



rg^ 18 -g2j> 



WITHIN MYSELF i^^JJ'SSl 

Spent (deals 



e 



VER balmy breezes blow, yet ever 

Elude us in this world of spent ideals: 
Ever blazing starlight glows, but never 
Dispels the gloom wherein Lost Purpose reels. 



Ah, never, nevermore do lost illusions 
We lightly cherish in our halcyon hours 

Return : this void is black with waste confusions 
Wherein we toil at every task but ours. 

We labor on thru devious ways and eerie; 

We plod thru pathways crooked, dark, and drear ; 
We travel, travel, travel till we Ve weary 

And worn with ceaseless toil and worry here. 

And still we conjure new ideas that cheat us, 
And still we woo our old familiar, Fate— 

With fettered feet pursue ideals that beat us 
Beyond the shadows of the Shadowy Gate. 

And evermore with souls enraptured, yearning, 
By lights that burn to ashes as we pass. 

We hunt forbidden realms of fancy, learning 
How vain our dearest visions are, alas. 

Perchance beyond the Veil Unreal there lies 
Somewhere Fulfillment we now court in vain: 

Perchance beyond this haggard life that dies 
Dwells that for which our spent ideals strain. 



19 



i,^^<^giCS>g3» ^OO© SONGS ^ 



Where h 



Night 

OOK OUT ACROSS this vale of dazzling 

white 
To snow clad hills 
vening shadows gather. 

Between lie spectral fields and glooming woods 

In lifting strata banks of blue and pink 

That now gleam softly azure 

And now again streak out to glaring red— 

A brick-like radiance 

That soon shall fade to nothingness in night. 

So gleam the fields 
Across the white expanse 
Of Destiny. 

Late looking thru interminable space, 
I saw sunlit and gilded rainbow hues afar: 
And, farther yet- 
Beyond waste woods and dreary winding snow 

paths ^ 
I saw the boding mists of time foregathering 
In shadow ranks, 

Like furtive raven messengers that tell 
How briefly soon oncoming night may fold me 
And mine amid her host of spectral stars. 

Beautiful, bountiful Night! 

Bearer of balms, soother of sorrows, 
Absorber of mysteries,— 
Mute sorceress of uncertainty and terror, 
Yet breathing the benisons of peace! 



«m 



20 



WITHIN MYSELF i!S^Cj3^5» 

Lines to N 



t3 



HINK NOT thine image ever dim or blurred 
Within my range of lovelight— my Ideals ; 
Nor deem thy voice forgotten or unheard 
Amid the Silences my tongue conceals! 



Some unsung lyrics ring with vibrant song; 

Some thoughts are vocal, tho unspoken here— 
Wherever Soul thru soulhood speaks, a strong, 

Mute symphony pervades the atmosphere. 

Such be the chain that links our lives in one- 
Such be the blossoms that our brows entwine 

Such be the magic harmonies that run 
Among the mysteries our souls enshrine! 



Our yesterdays adorn the trophied urn 

And Time still chants their stolen roundelays; 

But, while Tomorrow glistens. Love shall burn 
And light our feet o'er unforgotten ways. 

Where trust in woman makes for faith in man- 
Where constant fealty tends to sweet repose — 

Our hearts shall rest in each, nor dread the span 
Of Silences thru which our Oneness flows. 



(TS^ 21 ^^SJ> 



«Sa<!&Cj>^^ MOO© SONGS D^ 

One Light: One Love 

aE Light, one Love alone, illumes my 
dreams ; 
One Star— just one— glows brightly in 
my sky; 
One Lingering Presence thrills my heart and beams 
Benignant on the voids from whence I cry. 

One Girlhood greets alike my waking sleep 
And dreaming wakefulness: one Vision stands 

Amongst my vigils; and I nightly keep 

Sweet tryst with her thru memory-haunted lands. 

I feel the luring contact and the touch 

That soothes with subtly soft and warm caress; 

I search unfathomed eyes and marvel much 
Amidst confidings that no lips confess. 

Within this aura all my senses swim 

By night and day, in crowds and deserts drear: 
Within this aura glooming cares and grim 

Desist and life augments from year to year. 

So, ever shall one Light, one Star, redeem 
My solitude amidst the wearying throng 

Of unmarkt nebulae— one Lovelight gleam 
Ascendent in my universe of song ! 



WITHIN MYSELF a^Cj5^3 

Absence 



I 



THINK OF THEE and thought transfers 

My soul again to one dear shrine: 
Across the bleak forbidding hills 
I press the lips still mine. 

Time cannot sever hearts so leal 

Nor space divide our love in two: 
What beats within your breast for me 
Throbs back from mine to you. 

Dull intermittent silence falls 

Between each gladsome surge of sea; 
And these successive absences 
Reveal my love for thee. 

Think sweetly of me when the swell 

Of separation bears me by: 
Dream tenderly of me when tides 
Of sundering duty ply. 

My heart is like the homing bird 
That, exiled, seeks a sunnier lea 
And hears the far-off hlmger-cry 
Of mated harmony. 

He Ccdls across the wintry waste 
To a bride within the swale, — 
And I, across a drearier space, 
To mine own intervale. 



(Tja 23 igt? 



«Sa<5^Ct]^^ MOOD SONGS 

I call to you, as in the dear 

Remembered days— glad days ago — 
To you, in the old trysting-place 
Our love-linkt memories know: 

Recall me, Dearest, to the scene 

These memories enshrine: 
Recall me to the hearth-side where 
My lips still cling to thine. 

SWANTON, VERMONT. FEBRUARY 1920 



Response 

I KNOW NOT what you dream about tonight: 
I know not how 
The voiceless words that pass beyond my sight 
Impress you now. 

I know not what your lips will say tomorrow: 

I know not why 
My own may not from their loved breathings borrow 

A quick reply. 

Yet, knowing what nor dreams nor speeches are, 

I can but know 
Your heart will beat response to one afar 

That loves you so. 

ST. ALBANS, JUNE 12, 1920 



(TJ®. 24 'W^ 



^ WITHIN MYSELF a^fJJ^!^ 

The Silent Sweetheart 

^^^ ' HE SLEEPS above me on the silent hill 
wMlk Where desolations whisper and where still 
t^ jJ Sad thoughts disturb the sombre lifeless air. 
' I see her slender form amidst the throng 

Of those celestial, and, despite the long 

Years that have passed away since her so rare 

Young spirit gently waned and waned away 
Into the twilight of eternity, 
I vision all her sweet simplicity 
And loveliness and grace untaught; 

And looking backward to that August day 
Which brought her to me— all unguessed, unsought — 

I marvel not how mightily she shook 

My soul to its foundation. Memory's book 
Recalls each vivid detail of the scene. 

Records each accent of her silvery voice 
Reviving former days and what had been 

My future had she lived. —But I rejoice 
No less in that awakening, that it broke 
My spirit when she left me. I awoke 
Thru her to manhood — found myself at last 
In her— in her found life— forgot the past 
And checkered years of boyhood— sought anew 
Thru her to build my universe and woo 

Thru her new gods of love and happiness. 

I mind her lissome figure and her face 
And liquid eyes— brown hazel eyes that gazed 

So winsomely in mine. I still can trace 
In mind the piquant girlhood that amazed, 

The willowy graceful form — the copper hair 

That hung in burnisht braids — still see her there. 



25 



«^<^tJJ^B MOO© SONGS 



The sudden rapture and the glad surprise— 
The poignant freshness, the exhilaration 

Of heights abruptly reacht — the new emprise 
That quickened in me— all the animation 
Of life re-born: I gave the answering call 
Of youth to youth— gave love that challenged all. 

Ah me, I still can feel as on that day 

Long past I felt fresh life within my heart ! 

No loss that men call death can wash away — 
No countless storms that rage and then depart 
Can blot that early picture from my mind, 
Erase the love or leave its thrill behind. 

Still does she hold me with her melting eye 
And still she melts me with her maiden smile 

And, still entranced with memories, I sigh 

For those first gleams of rapture that erewhile 
Aroused my manhood. Winsome is she and fair 
As on that August day I saw her there. 

[t] 

But now she slumbers on the silent hill 

Where other voiceless Dreams are laid to rest 

Where lost desires cry out and memory still 
Pursues the phantom of a broken quest. 

Hushed is the voice I longed so much to hear — 
The rippling laughter that so sweetly rang; 

Gone is the glory of the golden year 
That once I knew— silent the song I sang. 

O eyes so eloquent and softly brown! 

O piquant loveliness, so stark and cold ! 
From your drear pantheon of graves look down 

And greet me as ye did in days of old. 

(T^ 26 "^fi-P 



1^ WITHIN MYSELF «SScW55i 



Still let me feel thy presence! Nearer glide 
About my feet that falter here below — 

Smile down upon the vale where I abide 
Amidst the shattered dreams of long ago. 

Wait yet awhile for me where angels dwell 
In that ethereal clime beyond the blue : 

Wait yet awhile— Eternity shall tell 
The tale of love I would have told to you. 

Not merely on the silent hill I see 

Thy face effulgent or thy form descry: 

Deep in my soul where love and destiny 
Mingle as one my lost Elysiums lie. 



Eyes of Blue 

CCAN NOT PAINT in words the wondrous eyes 
That oft have geized in mine — those eyes of 
blue 
So deep and limpid that they thrill surprise 
And gleam on me thru mists of honey dew. 

I could not search them out till years revealed 
The purpose that lookt answering into mine: 

I marvelled at the mystery they concealed, 
But found them looking love in every line. 

Dear eyes, look that forever! From your orbs 
Of blue that gleam upon my absent days 

Mine own eyes drink; and all my life absorbs 
A gentle richness from their wondrous rays. 

<rs& 27 '^L? 



«SS<^C?3^ MOOD SONGS ^ 

The Undiscovered Singer 

Dedicated to J. H, F.- May 1918 

YXHOU Solitary Singer !- 
\J Breather at the lambent altar flame 
Of pristine Life: No Hectic God be thine 
Like that of shaven priest or sycophant, 
Earth-cowed! But be thy chant the herald voice 
Of Love primordial such as may have thrilled 
Earth's wearied ears before man's jealous spleen 
Found dungeon walls and bars and gyves for Eden. 

I see thee a lone Champion in the lists, 
Battling for free and seminal ideals— 
Thy scutcheon blazoned with the bold device. 
Blood red, of Liberty :— 

**What truth I see 
That truth is mine ; and to Eternity 
I fling it forth— be praise or blame of man 
Or more or less. In me the Thing Divine 
Dwells freely and its breath I body forth 
With vernal passion. No account of death 
Take L" 

So to the fray. 

Thy words 
Shall yet be cut on granite monolith 
In graven beauty! Letters writ in fire 
Shall herald forth the image of a soul 
Eruptive in its hidden flame of strength 
And soaring will. 

C^ 28 ^J? 



!^ WITHIN MYSELF ^^CjJ^SSa 

A rock-hewn character— 
Full dainty, too, and tender — as befits 
The mind high-poised, disdaining fellowship 
With self-wise, mammon-hunting progeny 
Of earth ; but bent, withal, to call of love 
And mild to clinging arms of infancy! 

Most royal Comrade, thou. 
Of burning hours in sylvan nooks 
Or den of treasured books! 
Where poets sang to us of love that made 
For high emprise, of dazzling escapade,— 

Of lowly toil, or vow,— 
Or enterprise sublime in life and art 
Where Destiny, invoked, declared her royal mandate 
to the heart. 

There sagas old we pondered o'er. 

And Wisdom's words we conned: 
There Fiction gave us cherisht lore 

Or cap and bells we donned. 
There Lowell, Byron, Whitman, Poe 

We criticised or read 
And worshipt stars of glittering Thought 

From Masters live and dead. 

Such days of life will linger on 

When summers come and go: 
Tho duties pall we still shall tread 
The treasured wine-vats of the dead 
While lamps burn high or low. 



29 



«Si<^^C^>^3» MOO© SONGS ^ 



The breath of Him is on us yet 

Who wrought man's primal dreams: 
And Destiny, now chill and dour, 
Will lure us with compelling power— 
Will warm us in her sunlit shower 
Of radiant lightning beams. 

Flames at a murky sky thy genius rare ! 
Companions : the fumed clouds of stolid day — 
Bald pillared fetishes of Custom's sway — 

Industrial gyves — rude Realism's stare! 

Stand firm to thy best muse and inward surge : 
So time shall know thee, what thou really art — 
Idyllic Prophet of the Burning Heart, 

Raging at prurient Fact and earthly Demiurge! 

Fling out thy heart-song to Eternity! 

Vast are the fields within thyself unsown- 
Romantic epos of fraternity 

Or fervid pastoral of day-dream flown ! 

Rove freely Attic vales of kale and thyme ; 
Let bourgeois bards the Helot harvests reap : 
In Sapphic vision o'er Parnassus sweep, 

Nor mind the sweating furore of the time! 

Leal Friends 

I COUNT him leal whose deeds are firmly tied 
To his professions. One such friend redeems 
Much misplaced confidence in man — 
And woman, too. Real friends are bulwarks staunch 
As old Gibraltar— rare as truth is rare! 



(TJ^ 30 -®«LP 



<& WITHIN MYSELF iSftttJ^BS* 



Sonnet to Milton 

"LoVe Virtue: she alone is free. 
She can teach ye hoW to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime." Milton 

O MILTON,— Poet of the seeing eye, 
Tho blind : — in height of vision peer of 
all! 
Thy verses, chaste yet rugged, still belie — 

As cadences melodiously fall — 
The strophes of our modern bards whose cry 
Out-Herods Herod in the mart and stall 
Of carnal Passion. Pictured Lust will pall 
On him whose song, like thine, is SouFs ally. 

Not thine the road trod erstwhile and anon 
By sensual feet that aim Parnassusward ; 
But thine the beetling path, rough, rugged, hard, 
That boldly lifts itself athwart the dawn 
Above the seeping valley and ignores 
Exuding filth ; but God in Song adores. 



The Unfolding Ego 

THE CRYPTIC KNOWLEDGE of unending years. 

The puzzling harmonies of rolling spheres. 

All prophecy and truth not understood 

And unguessed laws of Universal Good 

Await the glory of a day to be 

When man's untrammeled spirit shall be free. 



31 



«Sa<5?C!:>^^ MOO© SONGS & 

Debs Imprisoned 

fXAVNT, GOLDEN-HEARTED Leader, Debs: 
KJ O see 

How Labor's sympathetic tribute comes, 
Yet not alone! Friend of the workingman— 
Friend also to whoever chafes to be 
Where Wrong roams brazen. In this day when 
bombs, 
Hell-shrieks of war and fevered edicts ban 
The sweet, persuasive voice of Reason— thee 
Force frightens not. Since Liberty began 
And the Great Charter of Free Speech and Press 

Was torn from tyrant hands at Runnymede, 
Full many a Martjnr rotted in duress 

For crimes imagined. Nobly dost thou lead 
Where weaker hearts would falter. Freedom's 

Knight 
Risking thine own for every free man's right! 

Thomas Hood 

l^E BREATHED a grisly dream upon the air 
A— ^ Of Eugene Aram, haunted from his lair 

By restless Demons sang the fetid dirt 

And squalor of his age as none but he 
Of all the rhyming English company 

Could sing it painted toil in verse 

That women chant and laborers rehearse 
Wherever pick-eix falls or fingers press the shirt. 
He wooed Success in vain— if blase wealth. 
Or ease, or comfort, or what men call health 
Be so mistaken. Sullen Fate denied 
Surcease of ills to him— or aught beside. 
Surmounting Death, he winged to high emprise 
And spanned Oblivion with his "Bridge of Sighs". 

(TS^ 32 ^JLp 



<^ WITHIN MYSELF «SSI<t>^SS» 



Redivivus 

On receiving of J, H. F. his first autograph copy of 
"Flower of the Road'' 



FLOWER OF THE ROAD, you speak to me 
again 
Of loves long gone— of comrade passions 
free! 
Flower of Youth, your fervors strike amain 
Amongst my mounting pangs of minstrelsy! 



Your petals reek of Memories unsung 

By public rhymesters— of sweet dales and 

dells 

The incense of pressed violets among 

Earth's weary noises and our nausea spells! 



Paint us anon more portraits of the past! — 
Tell us more tales of brides and lovers cold! — 

Who reigns o'er loss and death must ever cast 
Such looks adown the starlit paths of old. 



September 1919 



33 



«SS^«?^W3^^ MOO© SONGS i& 

Lines 

Written in a Book of Shelley's Poems 



^ ^ "^HESE SONGS were shaken from the vi- 
A '^ brant lyre 

^^■^Of Shelley— wafted down on wings of fire 
From heaven's high portals — an ethereal strain 
Of melody from the Celestial Spirit 
Who voiced herewith, that worlds might hear 
it, 
His message of immortal Love and Pain 

And God-desire— 
Words that should kindle kindred hearts again 
O'er Shelley's pyre. 

The God that Shelley loved, but loved in vain, 
Lives on tho daily crucified again 
By that same world who crucified the poet 
In every earthly way, tho not in flesh:— 
And countless soaring spirits die afresh 
Each day as Shelley died; tho few may know it 

Or deem it wrong 
That bards should die. But Truth — as ages show 
it- 
Dies not in song. 



C^ 34 .^pLP 



!^ WITHIN MYSELF «S&C?3^SS» 

Earth Pangs 

#^V OMETIMES a song comes bursting from the 
pi^ deeps 

^^"^ Of pent-up passion and the dregs of pain : 
Sometimes it floats from light ethereal steeps, 
Or sobs convulsively across the main. 

Not all great songsters deck the azure skies; 

Not all great melodies comport with heaven : 
When Hell storms down upon our high emprise 

Our tongues roll thunder and our eyes dart levin. 

The sorceress, Fate, turns many a limpid strain 
Of joy to wailing grief or strangling cry: 

They know not Life whose hopes were never slain, 
Nor Immortality who never die. 

Some reckless paeans ring from buoyant peaks, 
Exultant. They belie our human clay. 

But Anguish, from her dark abysm, speaks 
In diapasons deep and true as they. 

So tender flesh resents the torturing frost 

That blights— so hapless winter yearns to spring- 
That Muses languish, hopeless, exiled, lost 

Where Silence dwells- or in their travail sing. 

rs^ 35 «^^ 



a^«^C!:j^Q MOO© SONGS ^ 

Black Mood 

A Threnody of Death and Despair 

Black thoughts are the kic% of a sensitive nature 
against hard facts. 

^^That must be our cure 

To he no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, 

Though full of pain, this intellectual being 

Those thoughts that wander through eternity.'' Milton 

/■ / ■ ^ HE WORLD is dark and dreary, and I dwell 
m ^^ galled in with direst misery and despair. 
m^^Life holds no Lamp for me; but, mockingly, 
The more to magnify my midnight mood. 
Brings forth a dead, charred wick that once burned 

bright 
But now is crumbled embers. The foul soot 
Assoils my groping grasp and numbs my nerves 
With dread. My clutch upon Accomplishment 
Relaxes : and the Soul that spread her wings 
For flight shrinks back recoils upon herself 
In fright at what she senses in this thing 
This grim and grimy Ghost of what has stood 

So beauteous to her eyes a flaring torch 

Put out! 

The beacon that once beckoned from afar 
To thrilling Hope and joyful Expectation 
Now shocks me with repellant touch; for I 
Have felt Response die out in me and leave 
A wasty void of unfulfilled Desire. 

So cold Despair crowds in and freezes up 
My ardent marrow, and my very thoughts 
Are blurred mentality. My days are draped 
With dull depressing dreams, and the mirage 
Of Immortality has disappeared. 
A void of useless aeons offers up 

<rjfe= 36 «^Bj> 



^ WITHIN MYSELF i^^V^» 

Blank invitation, and the vacuous years 

Yawn wide ahead ; but close behind me, wreckt, 

My fairest argosies in ruins lie. 

So I, God's Darling, who essayed to raise 

My sun-bright castles, tall with yearning spires 

That shimmered in a galaxy of stars. 

Now shape my course for Death, the Dread of Earth. 

In keen suspense I live my life, to die 

In a futurity of imaged woe. 

With sickening shock I see the Narrow House 

In phantom form appear- whose pinnacles. 

Inverted, search the depths of all things mean 

And low. Harassed by horrid sights I house 

In catacombs deep dug— in festering filth, 

'Mid damp and mouldering walls— and sound the pit 

Of sordid misery. The stagnant pool 

Of slime, the crawling worm or stealthy rat 

Shall woo my fancy now! O blackened Sun! 

Henceforth, tho all unwilling, must my mind — 

An Ego that has winged auroral flight 

Thru endless vistas of resounding space 

In heavens eternal- grovel in the dirt 

Beneath a sod ! The while, in anguish dire. 

Its gcize upon a slab of stone shall rest 

And read the age-old lettered mockery:— 

Here lies one whom the world knew nothing of— 
One of the herd of men, without renown. 
On such a day he died. In such a year 
He married Dorcas Dray, and from her he 
Had children— sons and daughters: but his work 

Is OVER and he slumbers HERE IN DUST. 

So runs the record of our finite days! 
So this pathetic scroll of Time unfurls 
The taunting threnody of futile years! 

C^ 37 -^iP 



8^<^C?5^i MOO© SONGS 



Who knows how high this prisoned Spirit soared? 
What Light once lit this clodded lamp of clay? 
Who treads the heights from which these orbs 

reached out 
Across the far horizon of Desire? 
Who cares what fate overtook this humble Christ 
That offered up in sweat and agony 
A free oblation for his helpless young — 
His hecatomb to the unfolding years? 
Or who may feel the dumb and bitter grief — 
The misery, the vain regret, with tears, 
That marked the dissolution of his dream 
Whose feet, still dragging in the dust of earth. 
Had scaled the lonely heights ?— or who can guess 
The vision of far splendor that was his? 
To graft in man the scion of Eternity— 
To water it with wine of Expectation — 
To nurse within his breast the thirst for Good 
And all Divine Attainment ; then to spill' 
This rare and costly vintage on the ground- - 

To prostrate humankind at last in dust 

This is the acme of futility; 

Yet this the vaunted Drama of our lives! 

O Thou to whom we pray: If this in truth 
Be all our meed or gain; if this be all 
The joy of treasured days and dreaming nights ; 
If this be what we sweat for and the end 

Of the tense pull of far Eternity 

If this damp wall of mud, this mound of clay, 
Be our sole shield from the Destroying Worm 
And Personality finds refuge /lere. 
Then are we lost indeed! Close up the Book 
And let it mould or rot in cold neglect I 



(TS^ 38 -^8j> 



WITHIN MYSELF ^acS>^5S» 



Pain— Trial— Tears 

I WILL NOT YIELD no, never; since I 
know 
That somewhere, just for me, Sweet Zephyrs 
blow: 
I will not yield to trial or tears below 
Or steep my Soul in bitter alchemy 
When somewhere kind Ideals wait for me! 

My heart upfires from pain as yonder ball 
In space upfires o'er vapors that enthrall; 
But well I know that, flashing to the call 

Of the stresst Spirit, friendly orbs shall rend 
This sombre gloom with rainbows, end to end. 

No life so shrouded but the Spark Divine 
Of deathless Light informs it;— nor shall mine 
Own life be shrouded more. In God's design 
Tears but half veil us from His wonted smile 
That gleams on us thru answering tears the 
while. 

May 1919 



39 



«S^«^:^Ct3^^ MOOD SONGS ^ 

invocation 
To the Demon-Angels 

Written in the exhaustion, agony, and utter desper- 
ation following a prolonged and nearly fatal attack 
of neuritis. 



n 



ET ME FORGET!— and count Oblivion 
gain; 

Let me but sleep ! — I shall not sleep in vain : 
O let me rest ! — if so my rest may be 
Surcease of Pain and death of Misery! 



Let me not linger while these limbs decay; 
Let me not live when Joy has fled away: 

let me dream ! — if so my dreams erase 
This pictured Hell— these agonies efface ! 

Angels of life, I pierce your false disguise; 

Demons of death, I sense your veiled emprise: 
Think not, by changing masks, to thus allay 
Or lull my fears, or fright my hopes away! 

Ye frauds of time — ye counterfeits of Truth; 
Cheats of all ages— frighteners of Youth: 

1 dare ye— I defy your utmost trials ; 

I know your ways and understand your wiles! 

Beneath your rouged faces I discern 
The likeness of myself. No need to learn 

Your purport ; I can see, glassed back to me, 

My cruel faults and my eternity. 






^ WITHIN MYSELF 8SSt<t>^5S8 



Saints and Pharisees 






HEN YOUR SOUL is sweetly praying 

And your spirit heaven-kisst, 
Some self-sanctioned saint is saying: 
"Save us from the atheist!" 



Such is life amongst the pious 
Tutored hypocrites of earth- 



Such the court in which they try us 
Christian heritage by birth! 



When earth's canting shams are ended 
And her self-styled saints are dead 

When the hollow and pretended 

Vows are vowed and judgements said 



THEN, I trust, the world will nourish 
Buddha dreams and prophecy- 



Nobler saints than these shall flourish 
And still mightier Christs shall be! 



C-J& 41 .^8^ 



»^l^^^04^ . MOOD SONGS 

The Uampire Church 

Dedicated to the ecclesiastical Shylocks and 
priestly politicians of all denominations 



n 



IKE A LIAR, by the rood, 

Lives the church on Christ the Lord 
Like a vampire drinks his blood 
And profanes his word. 



As the dodder on the tree 

Death, in florid leafage brings, 
So ornate hypocrisy 

On religion clings. 

Stealthy, stealing on its prey 

Like disease on budding youth. 
Falsely, shamelessly today 

Feeds the church on truth. 

Christ has risen : true it is— 

Risen from a tomb profaned : 
Risen truly just where this 

Recreant church has waned. 

Risen not in ye whose proud 

Lip-oblations mock his fame, — 
Not in vauntings long and loud 
That belie his name : 

Nor in ye who stiffly kneel 

On the gilded altar stair, 
But in them whose hearts reveal 
Kindly deeds and fair: 



WITHIN MYSELF ^^g0^i 



Risen in the healing word 

Spoken by the meanest man — 
Risen where nor pope nor lord 
Plots a selfish plan ; 

Christ is truly risen where 

Heart on lip, without disguise, 
Far beyond the blatant blare 
Of prelates meekly cries. 

Cries the human Jesus up — 

Cries the false disciples down- 
Drains the brimming martyr-cup — 
Dons the lowly crown. 

Whited Pharisees are ye 

False pretenders who inspire 
Empty forms and bigotry 

And your Master's ire. 

Would ye feel his warming life? 

Would ye know his matchless truth? 
Leave your arrogance and strife — 
Do his deeds in sooth. 



The Interests 

THE INTERESTS who cannot boss a man 
Will break him. So they broke the gentle Christ 
Who would not kneel to custom or obey 
Their mandate in the days of prophecy. 



crjft 43 -^8^ 



9^^^€f}^^ MOOD SONGS ^ 

Mamie*s Eves 

Suggested hy the two prize poems, "When We 
Dead Awaken'' and "May Jones Takes the Air", 
as published by THE NATION in its issue of Feb- 
ruary 9, 1921. 



T5(7, 



HO is who in Filbert Street? 



When we dead awake and meet 
May Jones mincing down the walk 
Shall we pass her by or talk 

Glibly with her? Shall we kneel 

To her dimpled knees and spread 

Supplicating palms and feel 

Blah-blah noises in our head ? 

Tell me, ye whose muses get 
Gold for Mamie, decollete- 



Is she what our age should woo? 
Does she coyly flirt with you ? 
Or, in search of cheap acclaim, 
Do you cenotaph her name? 

Wicked Mamie! Woful wights 
Dream of you on Sunday nights 
When their fancies ought to roam 
To the guileless peaceful home 
Where some gentler Prue and fair 
Ponders meditatively 
O'er the empty ingle chair 
Where her lover ought to be! 



44 



^ WITHIN MYSELF i^<?)^8 



Foolish lover! Foolish world! 
That would see in breizen flesh 
Thinly veiled by silken mesh 
Aphrodite's charms unhirled— 
That would worship, tho afar, 
Lustful Mamies as you are! 

Shut the lewd enchantress up! 
Take away the tempter-cup!— 
Lest our drunken eyes shall see 
Farther up than Mamie's knee- 
Take the wine-pot from our lip 

Lest our resolution slip 

That our tempted souls may rise 
To realms unseen in Mamie's eyes! 



I ARCH 192 1 



To the Prating Churchman 

TAKE NOT the name of God, thy Lord, in vain : 
Why mouth it loudly on each shifting breeze? 

Why anger Him whose truth your lips have slain? 
Go, purge your hateful church of such as these. 



45 



s^^«^;^Cj3^8 MOOD SONGS 



When 



^wi ^HEN men forget gold and glory 
^Jl / And cling but to love and truth; 
yy^y^ When women deny the story 

Of vanity, ease and youth ; 
When age knows nor pain nor sorrow 

And childhood remembers care ; 
When neighbors neglect to borrow 

And niggardly hearts are rare; 
When braggarts and fools are banished 

And wisdom shall reign supreme; 
When liars and thieves have vanished 

And injustice is but a dream : 
Then earth will confess her errors 

And folk will renounce their sin, 
And Hell will disgorge her terrors 

And Heaven be ushered in. 



r^ 46 ^j? 



^ WITHIN MYSELF i^<t>^S» 

Aspiration 

I WOULD NOT trespass on the vested choir 
Whose songs resound o'er far Parnassan heights, 
Nor breathe my dreams in Promethean fire ! 
Each heart's desire— each aspiration rights 
Itself in order in the Urn of Time: 
The soul's ethereal atoms consummate 
Within this Vast Alembic and dilate 
Beyond the range of prophecy or rhyme. 

So— Might I blink earth's slag and grimy dust, 

Nor choke among its grosser fumes today, 
But vision thru its bawdry and its lust 

And in the Cosmic Whirl my drama play; 
Then should this cramped and crippled mind attest 
Thru some fair work its kinship with the best. 

The Mystic Circle 

^r^AFE a full Circle is complete, God-given; 
J J Nor arc, nor segment, nor round oak, storm- 
riven : 
An eagle in full flight— unkenned below ; 
A star full-poised in orbit- all aglow 
With universal fire— supernal, free — 
Its liquid heart sufficing, self-propelling : — 

The same dynamic Force in you and me 
We christen Mind, for want of wiser spelling. 

But be it round or square, or short or tall, 
Nor steep nor deep but owneth its decree — 

A Thing Divine that, working all in all, 
Unlocks the Past and opes Eternity. 

Here, by the Sphynx of Being long concealed. 
Nude Truth— a Delphic concept— stands revealed ! 

(T^ 47 ^^^ 



«^P<5?Ct3^« MOOD SONGS ^ 



Life and I 

W AFE CAME TO ME in humble guise and 

■ / said : 

-^ ^\ "O Master, treat me kindly, for my fate 
Henceforth is one, indissoluble with thine. 
About thy destiny my heart-strings twine 

As always and forever. Ye subsist 

In and thru ME alone ; and, if I list, 
The flame ye cherish now shall mount anew 
To unimagined splendor and the dew 
Of an Eternal Morning kiss the brow 

Whereon care lingers, and the soul, elate. 

Shall kneel no more to Circumstance, as now 
And erst she knelt ; but, fortified and led 

By an Omniscient Purpose, conquer Doom 

And wing triumphant thru the gathering gloom. 



Florence 

WE DREAM of her who once filled all our days 
With sunshine and with gladness— ere the dart 

Of Death, descending on our grieved amaze, 
Poisoned the dream and thrust our lives apart. 



<r9^ 48 -sLsf 



i^ WITHIN MYSELF «SSW3«S» 



I 



Spires 

DEALS count: 

Big thoughts bespeak the man, — 

And nations, too, 

Evolve from nothing less spectacular. 



Where vision lacks 
And prophecy is dumb 
No pjnramids will tower to the skies. 
No sphinx gaze out above the baffling sands. 
No harp Aeolian waft to you and me 
Breathings oracular of high emprise: 
No mute infinity 
Take voice, 
No mastery vibrate 
Along the strings of effort- 
Nothing great 
Can come from him who, sunless, rayless, stands. 

Some Valley of Decision ever waits 
In hushed expectancy — 
Some great disorder 
Invites afar- 
Momentous issues border 
These realms of unformed Purpose — 
Vast estates 

Stretch all about us cryptic, unexplored, 
And, just beyond us, stored 
In formless form, lurks Knowledge, 
The high priestess of our faith. 

The inward Ego and the subtle God — 
Affinities — strike hands across Desire : 
And from this liaison of fire and clod 
Ideals spring, and mortals reach to God. 

<r9^ 49 "8^9 



iSa<5!WJ^^ MOOD SONGS 



Q 



Encouragement 

OLD the rough blast that blows no warm- 
ing Life 

From the wide cycle of the changing years ! 

Often repeating, yet seldom retreating, 
Fateful in rhythm from first to last — 
Time soon repairs the waste 
Made by man^s undue haste. 
Moulding the Present to line with the Past. 

Cold, too, the thought of snow, 
Warm winds seem loath to blow: 
Reluctant the seasons go 
From Death to Life: 
Yet tho the heart be weak. 
Distant the Goal we seek. 
Faint on the upturned cheek — 
Kissed by his breeze — 
Comes God's new Promise borne. 
Rose tints to dying morn: 
Rain falls to blanching corn. 
Fresh hope we seize. 

Dull thoughts are like stale bread; 
Heaven arches o'er our head; 
Truth's plummet drops like lead 
From height to depth. 

Truth sits enthroned still ;- 

High on her sun-crowned hill. 
O'er Life and Death and Will, 
Fearless and fathomless 
While Thought endures. 



1^ WITHIN MYSELF i^&tj3^S» 



Brace, then, your limbs for fight ; 
Hold to your onward light; 
Buttress with cheerful might 
Each high emprise! 
Let weaklings leave the fray, 
Stay thou firm every day. 
Courage will win for aye. 
Bold Heart, arise! 

Let us arise! 
The night is spent at last; 
The Day-star comes; 
Chill darkness flees, 
Heaven^s joyous Herald 
Voices glad refrain. 

Let us arise ! 

Sophistry 

^^ jfHERE do the Loved Ones we lose sight of go ? 
W/ What sophistry of sight deceives the eye 
And prompts reluctant lips to say "Good-bye" ? 
The platitudes we prate, or feign to know. 
Of the Great Mysteries- what riddle so 
Elusive as the faith they fain would bring? 
What insubstantial mockeries they fling 
Adown dull depths of Misery and Despair 
To vex our dreams with! God, the Debonair, 
Who dwells awhile, perchance, within this clay, 
From His supernal habitat comes hither 
And goes, forth-on, we know not how or whith- 
er- 
Obedient to One Law whose ebb and flow, 
Thru Life and Death, is Destiny for aye. 

<ri/^ 51 -at? 



«S&<^?<?>fi^ MOOD SONGS ^ 

A Dreamer Cometh 

'*For us life is a matter of our personalities in space 
and time." 

^W\^ DREAMS defy eternities 
■ IB And brave abysmal destinies : — 
3 B ^ I rove the shadowlands of Time 
To that idyllic, plasmic clime 
Where— epic thought!— the Will of God 
Sought embassage thru me— a clod ! 

This primal soul companioned truth 
And beauty's blush adorned her youth 
In those old unremembered years 
Whose natal unity appears 
Illumined by the cosmic dream 
That paints me other than I seem. 

Am I not I ? How long, O Fate, 
Shall this dissevered soul — so late 
Enhaloed by the mantling glow 
Of Harmony— pursue below 
Her blind, interminable quest — 
Her eager strivings for the best? 

What bliss awaits, what ill betides. 
What irony of earth abides 

My freighted course— what issues hfirk 
Portentously from out the dark — 
I fathom not. I dare not doubt 
My victory within, without ! 



<rj* 52 .»tp 



WITHIN MYSELF ^^(ti^^ 



Tempestuous Personality- 



God-Ego, incarnate in me! 

I see thee, inchoate and rife 

With dissonance, by pregnant strife 

Arise at last, united, whole 

A perfected, consistent Soul! 



^so 



Why Speak of Loss 

HY SPEAK of Loss when Life is on the 
wing? 

Why cherish Doubt when Faith will answer best? 

Why name your ills a hindrance in the Quest 
When earth will green anew each coming spring? 
As dewdrops to the dusty grasses bring 

Their jewelled heraldry of Day benign, 

So each succeeding circumstance malign 
Presages harmony and added zest 
To him who conquers. They are self-confest 

Of sin who stumble weakly in the fray 
And vex mankind with deadly sighs of sorrow: 

The soul that laughs at Death and Loss today 
Will rise o'er Loss and vanquish Death tomorrow. 

SEPTEMBER 14, 1919 



C^ 53 -st? 



aSa<^O^a MOOD SONGS &> 



TX7 



Th€ Dutoome 



HEN this body, worn and wreckt, 
Sinks beneath a kindred clay— 
Lip-lamented, garland-deckt, 
From its work and play: 



Will the spirit, pledged at birth 

To the bridal kiss of God, 
Haunt the harlot house of earth 
With a lustful clod? 



Can a bride so sweetly wooed 

On the leal First Lover's breast 
Die— a wanton— flesh-subdued, 
Ravished, unredressed ? 

Shall she bed with breathless slumber? 

Must the chords her youth-harp strung 
Break— forgetful of a number 
All unstruck, unsung ? 

Will the green, the golden past 

Shrink to one sad day and brief? 
Will it wither on the blast 
Like a falling leaf? 



54 



WITHIN MYSELF ^m^ 

May I not retell the story 

Of a lingering love-lit age? 
Must I, silent, mourn the glory 
Of a bootless page? 

Shall I climb the viewless summit 

Of a single tear-swept past?— 
Drop at last Life's sounding plummet 
Down no height more vast? 

What shall guide the questing spirit? 

What shall teach the trembling heart? 
Will a Presence, in or near it, 
Balk the slayer's art? 

Lo, the deathless Mind of God 
Missions in this mortal soul. 
And the mystic paths I plod 
Mount from goal to goal : 

Mount from First Great Life to birth, 

Up thru birth and present strife, 
Out thru death to endless worth- 
Endless destined Life. 



55 



fi^^^^gC?>^8 MOOD SONGS ^ 

The Illimitable I 

H MILLION WORLDS I compass here on 
earth : 
A million aeons old was I at birth- 
Yet freshly blown; 
And millions more will rise to fill the dearth 
Of joys renounced here which I yet shall own. 

A multi-millionaire am I in thought: 

My title flawless— 
A legacy bequeathed yet dearly bought: 
I claim what fettered minds and wills have wrought 
Times past for the Great King uncrowned and law- 
less. 

I sum within myself all I have seen: 

In me converge all lives that yet have been: 

A fertile field 
Am I, in whom all spores may sprout and green — 
A fire to whom all transient things must yield. 

My million worlds stretch out across the sod 

And skyward too 
They lift their towering emblems. Yet I plod 
Along these dusty highways mocking God 
With fleshly lusts : myself I will not woo ! 

These earthly years I count as but a span 
Who count a million aeons to each man: — 

My worlds, conceived, 
Stretch wider than the thinker's widest plan 
To possibilities untaught and unbelieved. 



^ WITHIN MYSELF «^Cj3^S» 

Fruition 

1|W^ HEN EARTH is left behind and time forgot, 
\Ay We swell again to our old pristine height 
And greatness. The free souFs inherent right 

To round its nascent attributes shall not 
Be narrowed or denied by God above 

Whatever may be done by man below 
To shorten our Utopias of love. 

Out of this world of discord we shall go 

To seek our true hearts in the unseen throng — 

Outstrip, thru emerald isles, the wing-ed feet 
Of seraphs to perennial Joys that bring 
New beauty; and the stilted songs we sing 

Today shall swell to harmonies that meet 

In one grand heavenly concord of free song. 

Opportunity 

Y^HE DAY OF FATE approaches in the Valley 
Vi^ of Decision — 

The day of loss or choosing 
The day of life or losing; 
And Time holds out her hands, and, with a smile 
of mock derision, 
She proffers you two glasses — 

One of sorrow mixed with pain, 
One of pleasure with achievement^ — 
As, in measured flight, she passes 
Beating ecstasy, bereavement 
From her noiseless wings again. 



57 



«SSK^(?C^e3« MOOD SONGS 



G 



Prayer 

RACIOUS GIVER of the good, 
Gracious Doer of the fair — 

Be thy bounty understood 
Here and everywhere : 



In the devious ways of Love 
That we take so much amiss — 

In the Dragon, in the Dove, 
In the Serpent's hiss: 

Where the sternest duties call, 
Where the bouldered rockway bends, 

Where the rushing waters fall 
Or the fountain spends: 

In the darksome day distraught. 
In the lightsome day of cheer. 

Be Thy purpose and our thought 
But as one — so near! 

Thou in us and we in Thee, 
Evil falls and Fear no more 

Frights our equanimity 
On this spectral shore. 

Though sepulchral shadows pall. 
Though the raving torrents rend. 

We will seek Thee out and call 
On Thee, friend to Friend. 

r^ 58 "^Sj? 



^ WITHIN MYSELF tiSa<J}^gg» 

On the Connecticut 

At Westminster y Vermont 

H BROAD EXPANSE of river far below 
And where my motor stands a narrow 
road 
That, ribbon-like, winds round the ledgy hill, — 
And puling waters trickle by the path 
Whereon my car and I take needed rest. 

I hear the hum of tractors o'er the bluff 

That shuts me out from western mead and mount 

And cloaks the figure of declining day: 

But on the east where fair New Hampshire swells 

Her vernal bosom flushed with brown and green 

Illimitable reaches stretch away. 

Along the river bank below my eye 

A railroad yawns and paddies tamp the ties 

And dago dialect disturbs the hush 

Of April's brooding sylvan quietude. 

Here reverie and peace abide— and I 
Abide with them one grateful fleeting span 
Far from the clash of wills and clink of coin 
And venial life that frets the world of man. 



APRIL 13. 1921 



59 



mm5,l^,^L9^ CONGRESS 



015 906 421 9 % 



